


Cruciabilis

by CatsoftheApocalypse



Series: The One with the Supernatural Boys [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Pain, Psychic Abilities, Smut, So much angst, Torture, and mentions thereof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:06:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsoftheApocalypse/pseuds/CatsoftheApocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>>>Gabriel lies locked away in his prison, not the angels, nor the demons, nor the Winchesters remember him. Not a soul knows that he is alive and that every torture filled day is another day closer to death, to Paradise. Silently he prays to his father, to Castiel, to anybody listening. He begs for forgiveness, for somebody to help him. But nobody can hear the angel…… who once helped saved the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Iron Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> The summary/intro sprung from the feather of [lamthetwickster](http://lamthetwickster.tumblr.com/), who graciously gave me permission to utilize it for the story. A link to her original post can be found in the end notes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have had strange dreams for a quite a while now, and while they're getting worse, you're getting fed up and decide to do something about them.

_The lack of light was all-consuming, no sound but that of labored breathing to be heard. No sight to aid the other senses, which were all the stronger for it. The scent of salt and copper in the air. The taste of it just as strong. Then, just faintly, far away, the sound of footsteps and the slamming of heavy, metal doors.  
  
_ I woke with a start, short of breath and sweat-slicked, wet trails leading from my eyes across my temples and into my hair, clear evidence of tears I otherwise wouldn’t have known I’d been crying. I shook off the covers and made my way towards the bathroom with small, trembling steps. These dreams – I did not even know what or who they were about – always left me weak.  
For the past two years, no matter what I did, no matter what kind of medication I took, I could not escape them. At first, I had them every few months. Then once a month. Once a week. But two months ago, approximately, they had become a nightly occurrence.  
Bent over the sink, my arms shaking as they supported me, I felt sick almost to the point of regurgitation. I could not get the sounds out of my head. Let alone the smell. Not even as I tried to go about my daily business after giving up on the thought of going back to sleep. Again and again, at different points throughout the day, my nostrils flared and I thought I caught that same scent. The stench of blood and tears.  
  
Going to bed in the evening had turned into something I dreaded weeks ago, and I had taken to putting it off until I could barely keep my eyes open anymore, in the vain hope that, if I tired myself out enough, my sleep might be dreamless. I had had recurring dreams before. They tended to come with the business if one was the right kind of psychic, be it ever so slightly. But this – this was different. As many times as I went over those dreams, they never revealed even the slightest hint how they might be interpreted, not the shortest thread to pull on.  
Besides, they were not your ordinary recurring dreams. They were not even the same. Not exactly. Sometimes, the air would carry an ever so slightly less putrid note, or the breathing pattern would be different.  
Sometimes, I drifted off and slipped into one of those dreams while trying to figure them out. Like the night I finally had enough and decided to do something.  
I sat in bed, shaking with sobs, taking several minutes to calm myself back down. This time, it had been especially… intense. I still had no idea what was going on, but everything had just felt so very urgent. Wiping the last tears from my eyes, I clenched my teeth and balled my hands into fists. This was it. I was done. I would find out what these dreams meant, and nothing was going to stop me.  
  
Kneeling down in front of a chest of drawers, I pulled a key from my pocket to unlock the bottom drawer. My chest felt a little too tight for a moment as I lifted a brass box out of it and stood to carry it over to a nearby table.  
Over the last twelve hours, I had exhausted most of my resources. I’d ouija’ed my way through too many spirits to count. I’d tried the pendulum. I had called other decent psychics I knew of to ask for advice, without going into too much detail. Several times, I had wished my mentor was still alive. I had a feeling she would have known what to do. That she could have helped.  
A séance was not a viable option for me. I couldn’t hold one by myself, and until I knew more, I did not want to get anybody else involved, especially not if I wasn’t certain I could trust them 100%. And crystal balls… I had never been good with those. They just weren’t my medium.  
Therefore, the contents of this box were my last resort. Most of my mentor’s supplies had, bit by bit, found their place somewhere between my own after she had passed, but what I had here was not to be trifled with. There were a lot of different types of scrying spells, and actually, crystal balls fell among them. Sort of. This particular ritual, however, I had never used without her guidance, and now I had to. It was a powerful spell, but required very little equipment. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the boxes’ lid and set it aside. Inside, I found what I expected. A small leather book with hand-written instructions for the ritual, and a shallow quartz basin, carefully carved, a very light rose tint to it, with the insides smooth and polished, while the outer layer was left as nature had designed it. After gingerly removing both items from the box, I began to prepare for the ritual in earnest.  
The physical setup was quickly completed, but I still needed to calm myself mentally. I had thoroughly studied the instructions, as I always did, and the bowl, filled with some water, and a single candle were the only things to help me. The rest had to come from myself. That was why these types of spells were so rarely used. They took a lot of energy, both mental and physical, from the person enacting them. As far as I knew, none of my regular psychic contacts had ever attempted anything like this, simply because they never had need of it, and even my mentor had only done it a few times.  
After about an hour of meditation, I was as ready as I would ever be. The lights were off, the room darkened, but for the flame of the solitary candle casting flickering shadows on the walls. I paid them no mind. Instead, I focused on the water, its surface a glittering layer over the quartz. Unintentionally, I began to count my breaths, letting myself feel the air fill and leave my lungs with the steady rise and fall of my chest. The candle’s orange light, its reflection in the water, it had a hypnotizing effect, and I needed to fight to keep a grip on what it was I was looking for as I felt myself slip away.  
  
Everything seemed nearly the same as always. Only, I was more aware of it. It was more intense. Like I was actually there, smack in the middle of whatever it was. Not physically, of course. But as a… presence with at least some sort of power and choice. The dreams… in that state of restless slumber, I was shown. Now, I saw, or perceived, of my own free will. And I was determined to do so for as long as my physical and mental strength would allow it, if required.  
  
 _The heavy, labored breathing that always sounded in the gloom of the blackish space was slightly more raspy than before. It carried the kind of undertone that can be the result of screaming, or sickness. The raw scrape of air in a sore throat.  
_ _Though repulsive as usual, the malodor of salt and copper now managed to reveal an even fouler note. Old. Stagnant… Rotting.  
_ _Somewhere, the splash of liquid on another surface of the same condition created an echo in long intervals.  
_ _Although the passing of time was difficult to assess with any degree of precision, it was clear that an extensive amount of it had gone by when the fall of booted feet on concrete floor became just barely audible, as if through several layers of brick and metal. It grew nearer, and the more it did so, the more pressing felt the cover of dread that hung over the place. The steps halted suddenly, a welcome relief, since they had grown nearly unbearable in volume after the previous scarcity of acoustic stimulation. There was the screeching sound of metal on metal, close by, a key being inserted into its hole and turned, then the scraping of a door being pushed open, so slowly it must have been deliberate. Maybe to instill fear.  
_ _A figure entered, the light that came with them casting their face in shadows. But whoever it was, they were tall. Probably around 6’2” or 6’3”. Broad shoulders. Short hair. Drab clothing.  
_ _More light was cast on the sole occupant of the room. He – for it was a man – was shorter by about half a foot. He was shackled, hands and feet bound to a wall opposite the door. With his head slumped forward, his features were obscured. His hair, the color of rich, dark honey, would have been beautiful, were it not for its matted state, strands clotted with blood. He was clad in a ragged pair of trousers, but no shirt, his torso covered in little cuts, bruises, and patches of dried blood.  
_ _The door fell shut again, a hollow resonance in the space filled with nothing besides the anticipation of horrible things to come, a glint of light reflecting on some metallic item in one of the intruder’s hands the last matter of visual significance before the utter night returned.  
_ _The visual deprivation did not last long, for a bright, blue-ish light soon cut through the darkness.  
  
_ I snapped out of the trance, my ears still ringing with screams.  
Desperately gasping for air that I felt hadn’t filled my lungs in way too long, I realized that a sticky film of cold sweat covered my body and I shivered in the frigid night air that crept in through the open window, hidden behind heavy curtains to shut out the light. Rather than wrapping myself into a blanket or pulling on a jumper to warm up, I scrambled to my feet and staggered over to the window, pushing the curtain aside and opening it more fully to greedily suck in the fresh, oxygen-rich air, feeling like it gave me new life after the stifling experience of the scrying.  
This was exactly why that kind of spell was so rarely used. It was too powerful, and if not used with caution, could have serious consequences for the person enacting it. Sensations caused by what could be revealed and perceived tended to be… intense.  
A glance at the clock told me I’d been scrying for nearly three hours, which was way longer than advisable.  
After the feeling of being in a chokehold slowly ebbed away and I could breathe more freely, I traipsed into the kitchen and hit the start button on the microwave I had prepared before the session, one of my wiser decisions, while chugging down the contents of a large glass of water.  
Truth be told, after what just happened, even the thought of food nearly made me gag, but the energy the spell had consumed needed to be replaced. Thus, I forced myself to eat as much of the leftover Chinese as my stomach would let me, refilled my glass and then made my way to the sofa. The window still open to let in the air, I now grabbed a blanket from the armrest and threw it around my shoulders, pulled my feet up onto the seat, and rested my forehead against my folded hands atop my knees.  
What, exactly, had I even found out?  
Suppose it had to suffice, at least for the time being, to know that I wasn’t going crazy. Not more than usual. I knew now that there were actual people involved, and that one of them was in real pain. Given what I had witnessed, I felt almost decadent, all wrapped up and cozy in a blanket, in no physical pain, safe and sound as I was. For a moment, I was even tempted to return to the quartz bowl on the table behind me, but then I firmly reminded myself that, if I wanted to figure this out, I would have to rest, since I was going to need my strength. And I wanted to figure this out badly. The man I had seen, whoever he was, needed help, and it seemed to be up to me to provide it.  
  
 _“I’m sorry.  
_ _For all the time I wasted. For hiding away. Pretending to be somebody else. Something else. Acting as if none of you were any concern of mine. As if I did not care. I’m sorry I let myself be ruled by my fears. I’m sorry I ran from you. From all of you.  
_ _Brothers. Sisters. Please, if you can find it in yourselves… any of you… just one of you… Please, forgive me. I beg of you.  
_ _They will tire of their amusement with me eventually. That point will come, I can feel it. I know it is growing closer already. And once they do, the only thing I can still expect is the release of death.  
_ _Perhaps, if I am to be forgiven, I may be lucky enough to see Paradise again. Even if it were but a glimpse, I should be satisfied. I missed it. Not a day has gone by during the millennia of denial that I did not long for home.  
_ _I should never have left like that. I know that now, but I cannot take it back. I can only ask, once again, your forgiveness.  
_ _Father.  
_ _Castiel.  
_ _Brothers.  
_ _Sisters.  
_ _Anyone.  
_ _Please. Forgive me. Help me.”_  
  
It seemed like the Scrying had cracked something open, broken down a barrier, unlocked a door, so to say, to give me better access to those dreams. I had fallen asleep on the sofa, and the morning saw me wake with the perfect certainty that those word, that… prayer… had been a silent one. Somehow, I knew that the mystery man had not spoken out loud, just as I knew it was him the words had come from.  
Nameless as he was to me, my heart still ached for him and his suffering. For the pain he was enduring. More determined than ever, I began to prepare for the day. I would have to run a few errands and collect some supplies that might come in handy from here on out.  
As I got ready, I tried to recollect as many details of his prayer as I possibly could, and just as I pulled a T-Shirt over my head, realization hit me like a freight train. I had a clue now. A real one. Better than a clue, even. I had a name, and it was one I’d heard before, too.  
Castiel.  
  
“And you’re sure the name doesn’t ring a bell? Yeah. Okay. No, that’s all right. I hope so. Thanks anyway.”  
I hung up with a sigh and continued on down the street. That had been the last of my contacts. All of them had been a bit confused at first why I was calling again already, after all the questions I had asked them yesterday. Not that calling them had done me any good. None of them had ever heard the name Castiel before. I knew that I myself had, but I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember where, or in what context. I only wished my mentor was here. Yes, Pamela would know-  
Pamela! That was it! That’s how I knew the name.  
After Bobby Singer had called and she had agreed to help, after that séance had gone so terribly wrong… She had not told me what happened right away. In fact, it had taken her a few weeks before she confided in me. Once I knew the whole story, I understood why she would want to stay as far away from certain things as possible. Of course, she had still done what she could to help two of the most infamous hunters alive.  
Castiel was the reason Pamela had lost her sight. An Angel of the Lord. And I had no idea how to get a hold of him. But maybe… I only knew of the Winchesters by proxy, so I just had to hope mentioning Pam would help me get a foot in the door.  
What the implications of my only clue being an angel meant regarding the identity of my mysterious stranger, I would have preferred not to consider at that very moment, but it was a train of thought I was incapable of avoiding. In his prayer, he had addressed Castiel in one breath with his father. With his brothers and sisters. More likely than not, it would appear, I had unknowingly decided to go on a rescue mission for a celestial being. The weight of that possibility was almost overwhelming, and I began to wonder how much hope there really was. Was it even realistic for me to think I could accomplish what I had set my mind to?  
I shook my head to dispel the gloomy thoughts, tightened my grip around the strap of my messenger bag, and hurried back home.  
  
Nervously drumming my nails against the tabletop, I waited for somebody to pick up the phone, but it just kept ringing until the line cut off. I checked the notebook with Pamela’s old contacts again, and was relieved to find that there was one last possible number for the Winchesters that I had not yet tried.  
‘Well…’ I thought to myself. ‘… here goes nothing.’  
Again, it rang for a long time, and I was already preparing myself for the sound of the call dropping, but this time, it did not come.  
“Yes?” a gruff voice answered instead.  
“Is this Dean Winchester?” I asked.  
“Who wants to now?”  
“Do you remember Pamela Barnes?”  
“Who is this?”  
“I… My name is F/N L/N. I’m a friend of Pamela’s. I need help.”  
“How do we know we can trust you?”  
“How do I know you’re even who I think you are?”  
“Stop giving her a hard time.” a somewhat softer voice chastised in the background on the other end of the line.  
The man who had picked up sighed.  
“All right… Yes, this is Dean Winchester. What’s your… issue, I suppose? F/N, is it?” he asked after confirming his identity.  
“That’s kind of a weird story.” I admitted.  
“Don’t worry about that. Weird is our specialty.”  
“So I’ve heard.” I chuckled uncomfortably.  
“Then shoot.” he prompted once more.  
So I did.  
  
Finished with recounting my story, I was greeted by a whole lotta silence.  
“Dean?” I asked timidly.  
“I’m here.” He said, not much more than a murmur. “So… you think Cas can help you?”  
“I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “I hope so. He’s the only lead I’ve got.”  
“Give me a moment?”  
“Sure.”  
A few minutes of whispered conversation later, too low for me to eavesdrop on, Dean came back to me.  
“Okay, F/N, here’s the thing… Right now, we don’t know where exactly Cas is. But we can get a hold of him. We’ll run the whole thing by him, see what he says, and we’ll let you know. That sound like a plan?”  
“I guess so… Not like I have a heap of alternatives anyway.”  
“Sorry.”  
“No, no… don’t be. It’s just… that this whole thing is kind of running me ragged.”  
“Sounds like it would.”  
I could almost see the nod of agreement that probably accompanied Dean’s words.  
“We’ll run it by him as soon as possible. I’ll try calling him now.” he promised.  
“Okay.” I agreed. “Thank you.”  
“We can just call you back on this number?”  
“Yeah. Only one I have.”  
“Got it. I’ll talk to you soon.”  
The call ended and I moved from the chair to my sofa, flopping down to curl up on my side, chewing on the inside of my cheek while I tried to convince myself I could do this. I could wait. It couldn’t possibly take that long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [cookingglitterfairy](http://cookingglitterfairy.tumblr.com/) for the Beta.


	2. Judas Chair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean managed to pass your info on to his angel-buddy, who is willing to meet you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might now become clear that all chapters for this work are titled with torture instruments/devices.  
> There are two different types of... equipment the name "Judas Chair" was used for. For this chapter's title, I am thinking of [this](http://i.imgur.com/RK3gHiJ.jpg) one.

Leaning my head back against the sofa, I sighed. Luckily, it had not taken Dean very long to get a hold of Castiel. After he had explained my whole situation to the angel, said celestial being had agreed to meet me. We would have to catch one another as he was trying to find a lead in a matter of grave importance himself. Only a few hours had passed.  
“And you said he’s your friend?” I asked Dean nervously.  
“Yes. F/N, listen… He’s a good guy. Shit is constantly hitting the fan around us, otherwise we’d help as well, but Cas… well, as I said, he’s checking some things out, and he’s going to pass through close to your place. Go talk to him. He’ll help however he can. And he’s not going to hurt you.”  
“You trust him.”  
It was a statement, not a question, but Dean gave me an answer anyway.  
“With my life.”

Despite Dean’s reassurances I was still a little nervous when I walked up to the Diner I was supposed to meet Castiel in the next morning. After all, I didn’t know jack about the Winchesters either. In the end, however, the fact that I had no other option still remained.  
I had a license, but I did not own a car, so I had taken a bus to the location of our meeting. Said bus was on an odd route that didn’t work that well when it was raining. I had therefore expected the ride to be longer than it ended up being, since the weather was not great either. To my own surprise, though, I was actually early. As I pulled open the door and stepped into a wall of scents, burgers, pancakes, pasta, coffee, I suddenly realized how hungry I was.  
When I had gotten out of bed that morning, I had a funky feeling in my stomach, and had decided to skip breakfast. Instead, I had just pulled an old backpack from under my bed and thrown in a change of clothes or two and some necessities. I had no idea what was going to be the outcome of this meeting, and wanted to be prepared. Well, as prepared as I could be, at least. Then I had grabbed Pamela’s notebook with the Scrying spell in it, just in case, and had been out the door.  
I found a small booth and ordered myself some pancakes and coffee, already beginning to drift into thinking about last night’s dream. They seemed to be much clearer now than before the Scrying. Like there had been a mist, or fog, that had impacted my senses before and was now gone.  
Unfortunately, I had not been able to learn anything new last night. Or maybe that was a good thing. For, as long as he suffered, at least I knew my mysterious stranger was still alive. I didn’t want him in pain, of course. No matter who, or what he was. The possibility that he might be an angel, like Castiel, still made me a little uneasy, but that didn’t mean he deserved what he was going through.

After the waitress had brought my order, and I had promptly devoured my food in record time, Castiel still wasn’t there. I glanced at my phone, finding that it was only five minutes over the agreed time, so he wasn’t that late. I asked for another coffee, and just as the refill was being poured, the door opened and a man with a Trench coat and a head of dark hair walked in.  
That must be him. I chuckled softly when I remembered one of the phrases Dean had used when describing his friend to me. ‘Holy tax accountant’, indeed. He turned his head in my direction when he heard my laugh, I nodded, and he approached. Slow, but determined.  
“F/N L/N?” he asked once he reached my table.  
I nodded again, motioning for him to sit.  
“And you’re Castiel.”  
“I am.” he confirmed, tilting his head a moment later. “You’re nervous.”  
“Well, yeah…” I agreed. “I mean, it’s not every day one meets their first Angel of the Lord.”  
“That’s not all, though, is it?” he prodded.  
I swallowed around a sudden lump in my throat and shook my head no.  
“What else about me makes you uneasy?”  
“Pamela.” I nearly choked out.  
He nodded in understanding and said nothing for a few moments.  
“Dean briefly mentioned you knew her.”  
“She was my mentor.”  
“I see. I’m…” he wavered briefly, looking for the right words before he continued. “I realize this may seem inadequate to you, but I am truly sorry for what happened. Most humans are simply not capably of perceiving our true form. I tried to warn her of that, but she was-“  
“She was stubborn.” I nodded.  
“So it appeared. I can assure you, I mean you no harm. Dean told me about your… dreams. I will be happy to help you, if I can.”  
“Thank you.” I breathed.  
After this first little conversation, I was relieved. I could tell that he was genuinely sorry for what had happened during that fateful séance.  
“What exactly has Dean told you?”  
Castiel briefly recounted what he already knew, and I immediately realized a rather significant detail had been left out.  
“Dean forgot to tell you why I hope you might be able to help me.” I pointed out.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Castiel, I didn’t just pull your name out of a hat or something and went ‘Oh yeah, he’s gonna help me!’, that wouldn’t make any sense.”  
“But you did think of me for some reason.”  
“Yes, obviously. And a very specific one, too. That man I saw during the Scrying spell… the one from my dreams…”  
“Yes?”  
“He prayed to you. He mentioned you by name.”

Castiel was too stunned to speak for a few moments.  
“What exactly did he pray for?” he questioned once he had collected himself.  
“Well…” I felt a little like I was betraying the stranger’s confidence if I passed on the contents of his prayer, but then again, it had originally been addressed to the angel now before me, so I supposed it was okay. “… he asked for forgiveness. For leaving home. He asked for help. I… I think he might be an angel, too.”  
“Why do you think that?”  
“He also prayed for his father’s forgiveness, and that of his brothers and sisters.”  
Castiel jumped a little, his expression somewhere between intrigued and tormented.  
“What?” I asked.  
“You might be right. Have you… In those dreams, have you ever seen his face?”  
“No.” I admitted, and his shoulders slumped, but went rigid again when I continued. “I’ve only seen a glimpse of him during the Scrying. Not his face. Just the top of his head. I-“  
I had to stop myself and force back the tears I could feel welling up.  
Castiel again tilted his head, and looked at me with his eyes slightly narrowed.  
“The thought of this person’s suffering distresses you.”  
“Thank you, Captain Obvious!” I snapped.  
“Why?”  
“Maybe because this has been in my head for two years now? Because nobody deserves to endure things like that for even the shortest period of time, let alone years? Because-“  
“All right.” he interrupted.  
“All right, what?”  
“It was not my intent to agitate you. I apologize if I appeared… uncaring. The degree of compassion humans exhibit still amazes me quite often.”  
“No, you’re…” I took a deep breath. “… you’re fine. I’m sorry. It’s just… this whole thing is pretty messed up.”  
He nodded his understanding, continuing to look at me, this time with an unspoken question in his eyes.  
“What is it?”  
“I…” he hesitated, and I raised an eyebrow, prompting him to keep talking. “If you give me permission, I could look into your mind, and see what you saw of him. Should he indeed be an angel, as you suspect, it is quite possible that I recognize him.”  
My eyes widened at his suggestion.  
“Is it safe?”  
“Yes.”  
Did I really want him snooping around in my thoughts? I knew next to nothing about him, aside from the incident with Pam and what little Dean had told me. On the other hand, if we knew the pained stranger’s identity, it would most likely go a long way in helping us to find out where he was, who held him, and how to save him.  
Castiel waited patiently while I contemplated his suggestion.  
“Will it hurt?”  
“No. It is a simple thing to do and comes naturally to us. But since you are human, I need consent to do it, as we do for anything invasive. And even if that were not the case, I figured you would prefer to be asked for permission.”  
“You were right. Thank you.” I nodded, holding his gaze. “Go ahead.”  
He remained silent after my assent, squinting just a little bit while he looked at me. His stare was intense, the color of his eyes almost hypnotizing. The spell was broken just as suddenly as it had taken hold of me, and Castiel leaned back against the booth’s wall.  
“Is something wrong?” I asked nervously.  
The look on his face indicated there was cause for concern.  
“Do you not know him?”  
“Rest assured, nothing is particularly wrong. I just-“  
“You don’t know him then? Or is he not an angel at all?”  
“He is an angel, and I do know him.” Castiel said, stopping there.  
“Well?”  
“It’s Gabriel.”

After the state of shock I had momentarily been frozen in wore off, I shook my head energetically.  
“I’m sorry, for a moment there I thought you just said-“  
“Gabriel. Yes. I did say that.” He reaffirmed, and I nearly froze again.  
“But I thought Gabriel was-“  
“An archangel. He is.”  
“Then how can it be that he’s being treated like this? Shouldn’t he be powerful enough to free himself?”  
“That depends…”

_The same bright light as before, with only the lightest blue tint, lit up the darkness, shortly here, longer there, time and time again, as the blade sank into Gabriel’s flesh. As it was guided to cut his skin, by skillful hands. The hands of a master. Somebody who takes pride in their work. Somebody who enjoys it._   
_The archangel’s screams, his pleas for mercy, echoed through the space devoid of such pleasantries, unacknowledged, if not unheard._   
_This time, he was conscious for a change when his tormentor had entered. It had been weeks ago, the last time it hadn’t been the pain that woke him. His whiskey eyes were filled with the dreadful knowledge of what was to come and even now, as blood ran into them from a fresh cut on his forehead, he kept them open, desperate to take in anything, anything at all, even if it was the face of his torture-master. Once or twice only, he would let his gaze flit about the room, as if he still hoped there might be anything else there for him to see but misery._

“F/N. F/N!”  
Castiel’s voice penetrated my trance and brought me back into a dingy motel room with an hourly rate when he gently shook my shoulder.  
“What did you do that for?” I mumbled.  
My speech was barely coherent as I struggled to remain upright, on my knees in front of a plain porcelain bowl filled with water. It was not nearly as effective as the quartz, and as a result had required even more concentration and energy from me, but I had insisted.  
We’d left the diner a few hours earlier, Castiel still in the middle of telling me about his latest run-ins with his big brother, the archangel Gabriel. Well, ‘latest’ was being generous, considering the last time he had seen him had been about two years ago, right before my dreams had started.  
Up until now, Castiel had told me, he had not even been sure whether that had actually been Gabriel, since he had appeared to have died years before that. It was all very convoluted.  
Now, however, he was convinced that some other angel by the name of Metatron (a real jerk, as it seemed) had either revived Gabriel, or tracked him down while he once again faked his death, Metatron himself playing God and attempting to set Castiel up as the villain. Either way, Gabriel had been but a pawn in that game, and was seemingly still being held captive because of it.  
Castiel said if we hurried, we might still find Metatron close to his last known location, where he himself had found him out not too long ago, and beaten information regarding some world-ending evil he and the Winchesters were currently trying to stop out of him.  
I had not agreed to go anywhere with Castiel before he did not give me a few hours for a Scrying. I just needed to check on Gabriel. On my own terms, not through the uncontrollable, unpredictable medium of those dreams. Now, I was afraid it had been a mistake to spend time on this.  
“You were about to collapse.” he said calmly, keeping a firm hold on my shoulder to ensure I remained in a vertical position. “I think you should rest.”  
“I can rest in your car while you drive.” I muttered. “Let’s grab some food and get on the road, there’s no time to waste.”  
He looked at me and opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue his point, but I gave him no chance.  
“See for yourself, if you want.”  
A moment of surprise later he squinted, then jumped, letting go of my shoulder as if it were hot metal, and nodded, moving to help me up and to his car. I got in while he went to check us out, and we were on our way to track down Metatron.

Although it was kind of weird, I was thankful Castiel did not need any rest, since it meant he could drive for two days straight without sleep, only stopping for gas or when I needed a food or bathroom break. During those forty-eight hours, my dreams were much the same. Gabriel was mostly unconscious, until the torture started anew. Each time I woke, my chest seemed too tight to take the smallest breath, and tears were burning in my eyes.  
Just before I had drifted off once more, Castiel had told me we were only a few more hours drive from the city Metatron was hopefully still residing in. Opening my eyes suddenly after another episode, I noticed he’d stopped the car in some side street and was staring straight ahead, his expression as grim as he tended to wear it after each dream.  
I wasn’t sure why, but from one moment to the next, I felt the urge to ask him something.  
“Do you blame me?”  
He turned to look at me, confusion transforming his face.  
“What would I have to blame you for?”  
“I wanted time for the Scrying. What if Metatron is gone? What if he doesn’t actually know anything? What if… Should we even find Gabriel, what if we’re too late? What if-“  
“F/N.” He interrupted my rambling, his voice as clear and level as it had been from the beginning. “I do not think your Scrying was a waste of time. On the contrary. It gave us useful hints.”  
“Such as?”  
“Whoever has Gabriel is not looking for information. They’re not asking him any questions. They torture him for the sheer pleasure of it.”  
“If this is you trying to cheer me up, you’re saying all the wrong things.”  
Castiel frowned and pondered my statement for a little while. He seemed to come to the conclusion that I had a point, for he grimaced before he started anew.  
“What I mean is… the person doing this to my brother… they don’t want anything from him. They seem to have no reason to torture him as they do, but it would appear they do have a reason not to kill him.”  
“You think they’re under orders.”  
“I do.”  
“And you suspect these orders came from this Metatron-character?”  
“Yes. Although I’m not sure the term character should be applied to Metatron. He is a despicable being.”  
“Obviously.” I stated dryly. “So, how do we find him?”

Turns out he wasn’t that hard to find. A search on my phone revealed the local channel ‘Marv’ sold most of his clips to, and they knew exactly where he lived. It did not take too much convincing on my side for them to tell us.  
We both figured it was unlikely he would show any hospitality towards Castiel, so we parked in the shadow of a nearby building and waited for him to come out the front door, intent on finding some human misery to profit from.  
It was long past nightfall (and my patience was wearing thin) when he finally emerged, and as luck would have it, went straight in our direction. Castiel left the car while I stayed put as we had discussed.  
Through the cars closed doors and windows, I could not hear a word of what they were saying after Castiel had grabbed Metatron and pulled him deeper into the shadows, but I was in an ideal spot to watch them.  
From the looks of it, Metatron was not very forthcoming with any information he might have. Castiel, however, was not willing to let him off the hook, and I was grateful for it. I had an intense gut feeling telling me that he former Scribe of God had something to do with this. With what was happening to Gabriel.  
I observed with an ever deepening frown as Castiel’s interrogation-methods grew rougher. Metatron knew something. I could feel it, and a part of me hated him. Hated that he dared to make this even more difficult than it already was. And that he did so after he dared to hire a demon – a demon!!! – to relentlessly torture Gabriel, who had-  
Wait, what?

I scrambled to get out of the car and jogged towards the two of them, just when Castiel drew his arm back for a punch at Metatron’s nose. Reaching them, I laid a calming hand on said arm and forced him to halt his actions. Metatron watched the proceedings with a smug, yet curious expression that made me want to punch him myself.  
“There seems to be no need for that.” I told Castiel, my calm voice a polar opposite to the stormy sea of my mind. “I don’t think he will have to tell us anything. Not verbally.”


	3. Heretic's Fork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having rounded up Metatron, you and Cas set out to finally get Gabriel out of wherever he is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Archive is doing something weird with the formatting, and I apologize if it's bugging you as much as it does me. I'll try to figure something out, and fix it asap for consistency...

“Shut your mouth, or I swear to Tiresias, I will break your face myself!” I threatened, having turned around to glare at Metatron, who was in the backseat, hands and feet tied, and wouldn’t stop blabbering.

We had just pulled up to a motel on the outskirts of town, and Castiel was getting us a room, as we had agreed it would be best for us to take this… interrogation to a more private location, leaving me alone with this cockroach for the time being. To my surprise, he actually fell silent.

Upon Castiel’s return, we maneuvered Metatron into a questionably clean room, trying to be as inconspicuous about it as possible, and locked and bolted the door after us.

“What now?” Castiel asked me, after shoving Metatron to sit in a chair.

“Well, I… as I said, I think I know what’s going on. When you were questioning him earlier, I suddenly just… knew.”

“Knew what?”

“The guy I see with Gabriel? He’s a demon.”

“And that just… what, that just came to you???” Castiel asked, eyes wide in surprise.

“Sort of. I think I… I kind of read it in his thoughts. Metatron’s.” I said, jerking my head into the mentioned individual’s general direction. “Pamela always thought I was unusually receptive, but this is the first time anything like this ever happened.”

“Did you see anything else?”

“No. Not yet.”

Metatron had not said a word throughout our exchange, but now he piped up again.

“Would either of you care to explain to me what’s going on?” he demanded before turning to look at, and speak to, Castiel only. “Who is she? And what is she doing, poking around in my head?”

Before Castiel had a chance to reply, I was at Metatron’s throat – figuratively.

“Who I am?” I shouted, rage boiling hot within me. “How about I’m the person who can’t sleep normally because she has haunting dreams in which an archangel is being most viciously tortured by a demon because of you???”

“Tortured? Who? Gabriel?”

“Of course, Gabriel!!! Or do you have another archangel stashed away somewhere?”

“No, but I…“ he stuttered, seeming genuinely distraught. “I never-“

“You never what?” I screamed, my voice shrill to my own ears.”

“F/N.” Castiel cautioned me. “Maybe you should lower your voice. Otherwise we may attract too much inconvenient attention.”

Clenching my fists until my nails dug into my palm, I took a deep breath to calm myself.

“You’re right.” I bit out, turning back to Metatron with an expectant look. “You never what?” I asked him again, this time keeping my voice at a volume that hopefully did not penetrate the, most likely, way too thin walls.

“I never ordered him to be tortured.”

“So, what? You just left him there, with a demon as his jailer, and thought ‘I’m sure they’ll get along splendidly!’ because nothing bad has ever come of an idea like that?”

“I did not exactly think very far ahead. It was supposed to be a short-term arrangement!”

“And that is supposed to mean what, exactly?”

“I was powered by the angel-tablet, for crying out loud! Not even holy fire could contain me anymore! I thought that, once everyone had… adjusted… to my new rule, I could bring Gabriel back to heaven as well… make him my very own archangel. Until then, I meant to keep him locked up. The room he’s in-“

“Torture chamber.”

“Pardon?”

“You said room. I think the word you were actually looking for is torture chamber.” I specified, still glaring daggers at him.

“It’s protected by a warding sigil. One nobody but me knows about.” He hurried to continue. “It prevents any angel, no matter what class, to get in or out. Not even angel radio. His power is shut down as well. I couldn’t have him unwatched, though.”

“So you brought in a demon?” Castiel rejoined the conversation.

“Well, yes.”

“And you thought you could control him? What made you so sure he would not just kill Gabriel?”

“I have his bones. Or, well, I know where they are. He was instructed not to harm Gabriel. Only to ensure he stayed put. The whole building is sealed tight. There’s salt in every wall. The demon could not leave either.”

“How’d you do that?” I asked, strangely curious.

“I was practically God! I had ways!”

“Hate to break it to you, ‘practically God’, but your little demon buddy didn’t play along. Now tell me where they are.”

 

We left the motel as quickly as we had arrived, without even checking out properly. The warehouse Metatron had spoken of was only a few hours away, and we were on our way there. He said he wanted to be close, in case an opportunity of any sort should present itself. Another reason for me to want to punch him.

“How are we going to do this?” I asked Castiel nervously as we finally, hopefully, neared the end of our quest.

“I don’t know.” he answered honestly, and my rapidly beating heart sank.

“I may have an idea.” Metatron chimed from the backseat.

My first instinct was to tell him to go to hell, but a second thought and a glance at an ever so slightly nodding Castiel had me reconsider my options.

“That idea would be?” I prompted, twisting in my seat so I could look at him.

“The demon… I made a few promises. Rewards, if you will…”

“And how is that going to be of use to us?”

“One thing was… well, when his services would no longer be required, the first thing he wanted upon his… release… was… a plaything.”

“Plaything?” I asked, eyebrow arched.

“A girl.” Metatron admitted, squirming in his spot.

“A girl? And you were just going to hand some innocent woman over to him???”

He said nothing in his defense, but at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“You still haven’t gotten to the point where that’s helpful.”

“Don’t you see? Castiel, here, could act as my messenger, there to relieve the demon of his duties, which would make you-“

“Bait.”

“Precisely.”

“No.” Castiel barked.

“But-“ I started to object, without getting very far.

“F/N, no.” he repeated vehemently. “I cannot put you at risk like that.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t even know if he is telling the truth.”

“Oh, he is.”

“How do you know?”

“Just like I knew he hired a demon in the first place. I just do. No idea how, but I am 100% positive.”

“Still, it’s too risky.”

“It would only be to get us in there.”

“No.”

“Castiel, I appreciate your concern, truly, and you can’t imagine how grateful I am for your help, but this is how it’s going to have to go down. We don’t have time to come up with a different plan.” I pressed, and Castiel, gripping the steering wheel tight, glanced at me with a frown.

“What exactly is it you have in mind?”

 

“Let me go!” I yelled, dramatically struggling against the tight grip Castiel had on my upper arm.

I was sure his hold was going to leave a bruise. Good. It needed to look as real as possible, or this would never work. Metatron, still tied up, was locked in the car, out of sight of the warehouse, and Castiel was armed with a hidden angel blade. When he showed me the weapon, and explained what it could do, I had been appalled, immediately recognizing it as identical to the blade that I had witnessed being used on Gabriel.

Before we had even reached the door of the seemingly abandoned structure, it was opened from the inside. Although I had never seen his face before, I recognized the demon right away.

“What’s going on out here?” he asked with a rough voice that grated on my strained nerves as he glared at Castiel. “Who the hell are you?”

His eyes then glid over my whole body, leering, and I felt bile rising, the sour taste biting on the back of my tongue.

“And who is that?”

Upon the sight of the demon, I had frozen where I stood, but now Castiel shoved me forward, the almost violent act only lending more credibility to our dramatic display.

“Metatron sent me. Your services are no longer required.” The angel said, stepping inside without invitation and waiting for the door to be closed before he continued. “I’m here to retrieve the archangel.”

“What about her?” the demon asked again, looking me over once more.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to refrain from gagging.

“Part of your payment.” Castiel shrugged, pushing me into the other’s arms. “Now, where’s our charge?”

“Same place Metatron left him. A little worse for the wear, though. Metatron left me waiting for quite a long time. Had to entertain myself somehow.” my captor murmured while he stared into my eyes, trying to figure me out. “She’s got a spine.” he grinned. “Good. Let’s see if we can get rid of that, shall we?”

So far, everything had pretty much gone according to plan, and I was not particularly surprised when he drew a weapon, but when I made said weapon out to be the angel blade he had used on Gabriel, I saw red. In, quite literally, a knee jerk reaction, my knee connected with his groin and he folded in on himself. The angel blade fell from his grasp as he fell to his knees, surprise and a strange kind of delight written on his features. Not missing a beat, I lunged for the blade and proceeded to sink it into his chest.

Originating from the blade’s point of entry, an orange glow flickered through him, and he gave a pained smile, reaching to pull the blade out of his body while I stumbled backwards, shocked at myself for being capable of trying to stab a man to death. Well, a demon, but still.

“Missed the heart, darling. Better luck next time.” he said.

Those were his last words.

 

Castiel pulled his own angel blade from the demon’s back and then looked up at me.

“F/N, you’re shaking. Are you all right?”

“Ye- I- I… don’t know. I… I think so…”

He took the few steps he needed to reach me and patted my upper body here and there and everywhere, checking for injuries. When he found none, he gave me a still concerned look.

“That was – unexpected. What happened to the plan?” he asked?

“I don’t… I don’t know what got into me… I just saw the blade, and how he’d used it on Gabriel, and I just… did.”

My voice was unsteady, shaking along with my body.

“The host has been dead a long time, at least let that ease your mind a bit.” he said, giving my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, then turning halfway around to look at the demon’s remains. “Now we have to search every room until we find Gabriel.”

That jolted at least my mind back on track. I closed my eyes tight for a few moments, willing my body to cease its trembling as well.

“I don’t think so.” I said. “I can kind of feel which direction we need to go.”

“How?”

“How would I know? I’ve tried to stop asking for reasons since this whole thing started. Honestly, at this point, I don’t care much anymore, as long as whatever it is helps me – us – find Gabriel.

Castiel nodded, and followed me through the building’s hallways without objection, past countless doors and intersections, until I stopped dead in my tracks, lifting a hand to point straight ahead.

 

The steel door was more or less vaporized when Castiel hit it with all his angelic fury and I, despite the fact that my ears were ringing from the blast, did not wait for the dust to settle before I stormed in.

There he was, his feet in shackles, outstretched arms suspended by chains, hanging limply in his bindings.

“Gabriel.” I gasped, the whisper too low even for me to hear.

 

_He didn’t remember much. Not after Castiel had figured out that their whole little road trip had been an illusion, anyway. When he’d zapped himself away from his little brother, he had aimed for Tahiti. Or was it the Maldives? He couldn’t recall anymore. He knew hardly anything at this point. Where he had meant to go was of no consequence anyway. Not anymore. Wherever it had been, he had instead found himself here, cut off from his powers for some reason, no light, no sound, only the feeling of the chains that restrained him, the metal cold and heavy against his body._

_He never received an explanation. In fact, nobody spoke to him at all. Once, he had heard whispers, traces of a conversation he could not clearly make out. Nobody had responded to his calls for help._

_After that whispered conversation there was a long time, he used to try and sense the passing of it, which led him to assume it had been several weeks, of nothing again._

_When the door he had not even been certain existed suddenly opened for the first time, he was relieved. For a moment. Then the pain began._

_Bare hands, angel blade, holy fire… It made a no difference but to his jail master. To him, they were all the same after some time, as they all yielded the same result: agony._

_In the beginning, long periods of time seemed to pass between those sessions of torture, but they grew shorter and shorter until the only reprieve he knew anymore was unconsciousness. Then, even that was taken from him, as he was woken up, time and time again, by one jolt of pain or another._

_He had not known that his kind was capable of hallucinations without outside influence, but when he started seeing things that could not possibly be real, he knew he was not much longer for this world._

_At that point, he sent a last prayer, a last desperate plea, to his family. But he received no answer. No one had come. He was forsaken by all, and he knew it._

_Even in the oblivion of unconsciousness, he never truly rested. Whether it was his physical form or his grace, some part of him seemed to always be aware that it was not yet over. That the pain would return._

_When, suddenly, his senseless state brought the true relief it was commonly associated with, it therefore appeared to be nothing but another step closer to death._

 

Slowly, shocked by what I saw, I stepped closer, further analyzing the state he was in. Under my feet, the floor was wet, sticky with blood, the sound it produced making my stomach churn with every step I took. He looked so much worse than during the last Scrying.

The fastening around his neck seemed to be spiked around the inside, where thin rivulets of blood originated, flowing fresh and crimson down his exposed chest, and presumably his back as well.

Layers upon layers of coagulated blood covered his body and face, almost hiding the bruised skin underneath. But what they could not hide were the tears streaming down his face, one by one, from behind his closed lids.

My shock at the sight of him finally overridden by the need to act I was in front of him in a flash, dropping to my knees to remove the shackles at his feet first. It was an easy enough mechanism that required no tools. The material itself, the same one the angel blades were forged of, that held most of the restraining power. Then I dealt with the metal around his neck. As I removed it, he gave a low, involuntary sound, not unlike a whimper, while even more fresh blood oozed from the pinprick wounds.

“Shh…” I mumbled in an attempt to sound soothing, my hands coming up to cup his cheeks. “You’re gonna be fine.”

At this point, I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself anymore. But I had to keep going, had to get him out of here, so I moved to undo the shackles holding his arms in place next and he slumped forward, with me barely managing to catch his weight and gently lower him to the ground instead. He remained unconscious the whole time.

“Don’t.” I told him, kneeling there in his blood, his head resting in my lap, and tears now rolling down my own face as well. “Don’t. You’re not allowed to die on me. Not now. You don’t get to keep me from getting a good night’s sleep for two years and then chicken out just when I find you. Gabriel, you don’t get to do that, you hear me?”

Panic clawed into my heart, and I turned to the doorway to seek Castiel’s help.

“He won’t make it.” I choked out. “He’s too weak.”

“I can’t-“

“Don’t just stand there! Do something!!!” my scream echoed around us, and I was barely able to hold myself together any longer.

“F/N, I can’t enter.”

“What?”

“The warding Metatron mentioned. Remember, it does not only make sure Gabriel stays inside this room, it also keeps other angels out.” he explained.

“Then what do we do?”

“I don’t- Wait right here.”

I scoffed as he walked away. He ought to know I wasn’t going anywhere. Not as long as Gabriel remained.

Without any warning, there was a metallic clank, and lights came on overhead. Though they helped me see better as I listened to Castiel’s returning footsteps, they made the surroundings appear no less gloomy. Castiel quickly reappeared in the doorway and took in the whole room.

“I imagine you can’t see it very well from where you are, but the whole floor is carved with one large sigil.”

Ripping my gaze from Gabriel’s features, I looked around and identified a number of shallow grooves in the floor, filled with mostly dried blood.

“And?”

In reply, Castiel threw his angel blade into the room. It landed just inches from my hand, yet I did nothing but stare at it blankly.

“You’ll have to break one of the lines.” he instructed.

“But which one?”

“It doesn’t matter. As soon as the integrity of the sigil is broken, the warding will fail.”

Remembering what had happened when I held an angel blade earlier, I reached for this one with a trembling hand, the other against Gabriel’s temple as his head still rested in my lap. I looked around myself again, quickly found the nearest groove and, with a sharp intake of breath, began hacking away at it. Once I had started, I couldn’t stop, forced to keep going by I did not know what, and I heard myself screaming in anger, my rage an almost palpable force. I was furious once more. Angry at Metatron for causing this. Angry at myself for not trying to find Gabriel sooner. Angry. So, so angry.

“That’s enough.” Castiel said, standing next to me now, and his fingers closed around my wrist, effectively halting my movement.

Breath heavy as I looked up at him, I nodded slowly, my mind still hazy, and the blade clattered to the floor.

He moved to kneel by Gabriel’s side, one hand reaching to hover over his forehead, his own eyes closed on concentration. And with a deepening frown.

“I can’t heal him.” he stated.

“What? Why not?”

“His injuries – they are far too extensive. No one angel, even a Seraph, could heal them. It would take a whole Garrison of Rit Zien to make a difference.”

I didn’t even bother asking what the hell a Rit Zien was supposed to be, I was too busy blaming myself for this massive failure of a rescue mission.

“There is – “ Castiel interrupted himself, looking for a way to rephrase what he meant to say. “Given enough time, and I mean a lot of time, he should heal on his own. He’s an archangel. They are different. But…”

“But what?” I asked, mentally preparing for the little bit of hope Castiel had just sown in my heart to be ripped out again.

“Something’s wrong. With the sigil rendered useless, I should be able to feel his grace. I can tell it is there, but it’s not right. Like it is still… curbed somehow. Which is impossible. Unless…”

Having drifted off, Castiel closed his eyes once more, and moved both his hands over Gabriel’s form at minimal distance, back and forth, like he was searching for something. When he stopped and opened his eyes back up, I watched in horror as he reached for the angel blade and set it to Gabriel’s flesh.


	4. Brazen Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shock of last chapter's ending explained - and what comes next.

“What are you doing?!?” I nearly screamed with a broken voice.

The tip of the angel blade barely yet in contact with Gabriel’s skin, Castiel halted his action and looked up at me. There was understanding in his eyes, and concern, but also determination.

“Do you not trust me?”

“That’s not-“

“I believe I have found the source of the constraints on my brother’s Grace. But to remove it, I need to make use of the blade. It is not something I do lightly. Nor does it bring me joy. It is, however, a necessary evil.” he explained.

I swallowed around the fear and bit my lip, glancing from the angel blade to Castiel’s way too blue eyes, before nodding reluctantly.

Castiel lowered the blade to his brother’s skin and made a deep cut while spasms of pain ran through Gabriel’s already battered body. Feeling sick to the core as it was, I then had to bear witness as he reached into the wound with his whole hand. Meanwhile, sounds of more than just distress emerged from between Gabriel’s lips, and my gaze flickered to his face, contorted in pain as it was. Smoothing a hand across his brow, I attempted to whisper words meant to soothe, but only succeeded in uttering incoherent gibberish.

An exclamation of triumph from him drew my focus back to Castiel, and I was glad to find his hand no longer where I had last seen it. Instead, he held in it what appeared to be a small stone. Despite being pitch black in color, it seemed to… glow, somehow.

“Is that the thing that-“

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“I honestly do not know. I presume it’s another spell of Metatron’s.”

“And Gabriel?” I asked hesitantly.

“As this-“ Castiel began, still eyeing the stone curiously, “-is no longer impacting him, and I can now sense his grace the way I should, he will begin to heal.”

My relief, I was sure, must have been tangible, and I once more smoothed my hand over Gabriel’s brow as I tried to blink away my tears.

“We should get him out of here.”

“Yes. Yes, we should.” I agreed shakily, and together we hoisted Gabriel up and made to leave.

Being honest, Castiel took most of Gabriel’s weight, but now that he was safe I couldn’t bear not being in contact with the archangel, so I stayed as close as possible.

 

“I hate having to say this, but I won’t be able to take care of him.” Castiel said as we exited the building. “Even if I could explain to the Winchesters what happened, we don’t have the time to – with what is going on, none of us could – in his state somebody should constantly be close to Gabriel.”

I scowled at him briefly before speaking.

“Do you really think, after all this, that I would let you take him God knows where? Even worse, that I could be unwilling to look after him?”

“You would?”

“Of course.” I scoffed. “I may not be able to guarantee his safety, but I can promise I will do everything in my power to aid his recovery.”

“I might be able to help you about the safety issue. But do you not at least want to know more about him before you commit to this?”

“What’s there to know?”

“He’s old, F/N. He has done things.”

“As have you, I am sure. As have I. That wouldn’t change my mind.”

“It just might.” Castiel said ominously.

I was just about to hit him with a witty comeback when I caught sight of his car and narrowed my eyes at Metatron fidgeting about in the backseat.

“Where’s that stone?” I asked Castiel, keeping my eyes trained on the delinquent.

“In my coat’s pocket. Why?”

“I assume you would have no problem taking Gabriel the rest of the way by yourself?”

“None at all.”

“Then I’ll run ahead and have a little chat with Metatron.”

Without waiting for the angel’s reply, I snatched the stone from him and ran towards the car. Having arrived thither, I pulled open the door and dragged Metatron out, slamming him back against the side of the vehicle.

“You.” I hissed. “You have no idea how lucky you are Gabriel is alive.”

I had not taken self defense classes for nothing, so when I drew back my fist and aimed at his face, I knew exactly where and how to hit him in order to break his nose. And break his nose I did.

He curled in on himself, howling in pain. It took some time before he was able to utter a coherent sentence.

“What was that for??? You said he was alive!” he mumbled through the blood gushing from his nose.

I gripped his neck to pull him upright and pointed behind me, where Castiel was slowly approaching with his brother.

“He is, but look at the shape of him! All because of you! Now you better make haste and tell me what the hell this is-“I held the stone, still stained with Gabriel’s blood and leaving traces thereof on my hand, into his line of sight. “-or I might just lock you up in the same room you did Gabriel, and leave you there to rot.”

“It – It’s a spell. It was just a footnote on the angel tablet, but I found it useful for-“

“How can we destroy it?”

“You don’t need to. It is of no significance, unless it is embedded into the flesh of the angel whose power is to be curbed.”

“And how did it happen to be ‘embedded’ in Gabriel’s guts?”

“I placed… I placed it there when I brought him here.”

I was just about to punch him again, simply because he deserved it, but Castiel had reached is by now.

“F/N? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I was just teaching Metatron here a little something about pain.”

With that, I lowered my arm again, despite being tempted to finish what I had started. Instead, I shoved Metatron out of the way and crawled into the car, to the far side of the backseat, and proceeded to assist Castiel in resting Gabriel there as comfortably as possible, his head in my lap once more.

When that was done, Castiel poked his head in before moving to the driver’s seat.

“What do we do about Metatron?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” I muttered.

“Now that we got Gabriel, I need to get back to the Winchesters as soon as I can, I could bring you and Gabriel back to your place and we drop Metatron off at the nearest bus station?” he said questioningly.

“Sure. Whatever. As long as we make sure he doesn’t blabber about Gabriel’s location to anyone.”

Castiel nodded and closed the door, then made sure Metatron took shotgun, and got into his own seat. The car jumped a bit when he started the engine.

“Careful, now.” I cautioned him, a rueful smile on my lips as I started softly playing with Gabriel’s hair. “We’ve got precious cargo.”

I didn’t care to ask why that made Castiel chuckle.

 

_Everything just seemed… softer._

_For the first time since his painful ordeal had begun, he felt like he just might be better. But then again, maybe this was what death felt like for an angel. To spend eternity, not quite conscious, yet still somehow… aware._

_And even if this turned out to be nothing but an illusion, something his broken will or the twisted mind of his tormentor conjured up, he would still be grateful for the reprieve. He would cherish it, however long it might turn out to last._

_He knew this was all he was going to get, and complaining about it would be the last thing on his mind._

 

Under the cover of the night, I hurried to unlock my front door and motion Castiel, who seemed hardly bothered by carrying Gabriel’s full weight, inside. The sound of the door falling shut behind me, I rushed past the two of them and into my bedroom, where I quickly flipped back the covers and spread out an old sheet before Castiel lowered his brother’s still unconscious form to the bed.

In theory, my small house had a guest bedroom, but I had never bothered with actually getting it furnished accordingly, and I was not about to make Gabriel recuperate on the sofa.

We had basically dumped Metatron at the next best bus station only a few hours from the site of Gabriel’s captivity, and Castiel had made sure to manipulate the previous angel’s memory in such a way that he would not recall, much less tell anybody, where Gabriel was now.

Castiel’s phone rang just as he stepped back, and I watched his expression darken and grow more worried by the second while he spoke to who I could only presume to be Dean Winchester.

“More trouble?” I asked after he hung up.

“I’m afraid so.” He said grimly.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, I don’t think so. We have a plan of sorts. Not a good one, but we have it. And I’m guessing you will be busy enough here. I have to go now, as fast as I possibly can.”

“Sure.” I agreed, and we started to move in the direction of the front door. “If there is ever anything you or either of the Winchesters need, let me know. I’ll do what I can.”

He turned to me and nodded curtly, thanking me for the offer as I smiled and reached for the door, but let my hand fall away from it again.

“One more thing before I let you go…” I said.

“Yes?”

I stepped closer to him and threw my arms around him. He seemed reluctant to return the embrace, at least until I spoke again.

“Thank you, Cas.”

“You’re welcome.” he said then, briefly wrapping me up in his arms as well.

When we stepped away from each other again, a deep frown covered his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked cautiously.

“F/N, I know you said Gabriel’s past would not change your mind, but I do not think it fair to leave you without the knowledge of it.”

A deep sigh escaped me, and I nodded.

“Okay, then. Hit me with it.”

“I could just…” he came closer again, touching two fingers to my forehead. On contact, everything he knew about Gabriel, every thought and memory he had about his brother, seemed to flood my mind at once. I reeled back and swallowed thickly while Cas gave me a concerned look.

My smile might have been a little off, but I knew with all my heart that my next words were the truth.

“See? Told you this wouldn’t change my mind.”

If anything, what he had shared with me left me thinking about the feelings I had for Gabriel, and the nature of them.

“I’m glad of it.” he said, turning to leave. “Good bye, F/N.”

“Be safe, Cas.”

 

During one of the few rest stops we had made on our way back, Cas had shown me a number of sigils and warning spells, all of which I now took great care to apply to my home before I went to do anything else. Once that was over and done with, I prepared a bowl of warm water, several soft, clean cloths, and what medical supplies I had and would need and then went back to Gabriel’s bedside.

In the car, I had not had the equipment and supplies needed to see to the archangels’ wounds. Even though Cas had assured me that he would heal now, no matter what, I could not bear the thought of leaving Gabriel in the condition he was in any longer. Therefore, I set out to gently clean and treat his wounds, down to the very last, then dressing them carefully.

All the while, I spoke to him. Low words of comfort, of reassurance. Promises that he was not alone anymore. That he had support, and that at least one member of his family still loved him.

When all was said and done, the bowl rinsed of bloody water, supplies packed away and rubbish disposed of, I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before I finally let the exhaustion of the last – what was it, a week? – catch up with me. A great yawn later, and with barely enough energy left to take a blanket and pillow with me out of the bed- and into the living room, I collapsed face down onto the sofa, not to awaken for the foreseeable future.

 

_Small jabs of pain here and there – mere nothings, compared to what he was used to – gave him a sense of certainty that he was not dead yet. Even in light of that realization, though, that he was alive after all and the agony might therefore return at any point, he felt oddly comforted. At peace with everything, anything, the future might hold for him._

_Determined as he was to submit to whatever was to come, he still could not help being intrigued. A small part of him, long thought dead and forgotten, wanted to know what – or who – was responsible for the, albeit probably temporary, break of his routine._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Weeks – I wasn’t even entirely sure how many of them – had gone by without any significant changes in Gabriel’s condition. Sure, his wounds had slowly sealed, and even the scars they left were fading by the day, but he still remained unconscious.

Not daring to leave the house for more than a few moments, lest he should awaken in my absence and be scared, confused, disoriented, I had taken to ordering my groceries and other necessities to be delivered. The logical result of that, and a few other decisions, was that I was out of the loop as far as goings-on in the supernatural world went, since I refused visitors as well, and barely even accepted phone calls. In short, I had become quite the Hermit, and was more thankful than ever before for the good financial cushion I had built up over the years, allowing me to drop off the radar like that.

After the first night, I had kept trying to sleep on the sofa, but had found it incredibly difficult and uncomfortable. Unable to get the rest I needed, I had then decided to go back to sleeping in my bed. I knew I didn’t move around much in my sleep, so accidentally bumping into Gabriel would not be an issue, and my bed was more than large enough, as I liked my space and had gone for a King Size.

No information whatsoever reached me from, or about, Cas and the Winchesters and whatever they had been pursuing. Still, when a pronounced feeling of dread settled over me, growing heavier day by day, I was perfectly sure there was a connection.

And then the sun started acting funny. It was too dark. To… reluctant.

My newfound abilities of perception seemed to encompass more than I had initially realized, and the colder the sun went, the more obvious I found it that the so-called ‘experts’ that were dragged in front of TV cameras had no idea what they were talking about, the tighter my chest felt. Somewhere deep down, I knew that without a miracle of biblical proportions, whatever was happening would mean the end. Not just of humanity, but of everything.

During the past weeks of my – more or less – solitude, I had thought a lot about what would happen if – no, when – Gabriel woke up. Naturally, that train of thought had led to intense contemplation of my own feelings. Of what I wanted and what I had slowly started to crave. Being honest with myself, I had to admit that, at an unknown point during my quest to save him, I had fallen in love with Gabriel.

Sometimes, things can be so sad they end up being almost funny again. There I was, in love with an angel, pardon, archangel, I had not exchanged a single word with in my life. The only thing I had going for me was that thanks to Cas’ version of a Vulcan mind melt, complete with instant memory transfer, nobody could accuse me of not knowing anything about who I was so in love with. Cas had shown me so much. Everything he knew about Gabriel, the good as well as the bad, and somehow I had just automatically embraced all of it. All of Gabriel.

 

With the sun failing and the world ending, there seemed to be no reason to keep my feelings to myself, I figured, and ended up sitting on my bed, next to Gabriel, one of his hands clutched in both of mine.

“Gabriel, I… I might be going out on a limb here, but I’ll just assume you can hear what I’m saying. I can’t be sure how long either of us, or anything at all, is going to exist, and at this point, I don’t even care anymore. If what I’m doing is selfish, then so be it. I need to say it, and I need you to hear it.

I love you.

Gabriel, I love you.

I heard you when nobody else could, and I cared, and now I love you. Maybe that’s sentimental, or stupid, or ridiculous, but I don’t care.

I don’t expect you to return those feelings. If you did, that would make me happy beyond measure, but that’s not what this is about.

The world is ending. I’m sure of it. The world, and everything else along with it. So, I guess what I’m asking is for you to wake up. To be okay. For just a moment, if that’s all that is left.

I need you to know that you were not abandoned.

Please, Gabriel. I love you. I just need you to know of me.”

 

Nothing happened, besides a few tears rolling down my cheeks at intervals of several minutes.

A while later, I sighed in defeat and crawled off the bed to make my way to the bathroom across the hall and cool my tired eyes. Not having bothered to switch on the lights, I was startled when I lowered the towel I had dried my face with and found the room flooded with sunlight, pouring in through the milky glass of the window, as well as the open door.

While I was still blinking rapidly to make sure my mind was not just playing tricks on me, I felt an immense surge of power, brushing past and through me like a tidal wave, followed shortly by the sound of a light bulb breaking in the bedroom.

I hurried to return there, and found myself face to face with Gabriel, conscious and apparently well, for the very first time. Sitting up on one side of my bed, he was just staring back at me.

“Who are you?”


	5. Scavenger’s Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well? Who are you?

Without thinking, I took a couple of quick steps towards the bed, but when Gabriel flinched away from me, I froze.

“I’m sorry. It’s just- I am… I mean, you are… I can’t-“

As I felt fresh tears, tears of relief, gather in my eyes, I ran my hands over my face in an attempt to compose myself. Then I shook my head and dropped my arms again.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

The angel sat in silence.

“Sorry. I- My name is F/N. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, Gabriel.”

He started when I used his name.

“How do you know me?”

“That’s a long story. Which I’ll be happy to tell you.” I added when he frowned, already doubting my promise to answer him. “I suspect you’ll have a lot of other questions as well, which will end up involving the answer to this one here and there. Short version for now is that your brother told me who you are.”

“Which one?”

“Castiel.” I said, and recognition lit up his eyes a little.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. He left after he helped me. I have not heard from him since.”

“How long have I been here?”

“To be honest, I’m not quite sure anymore.” I had to admit. “I lost track of the days passing after a while. But some weeks. A couple of months.”

His golden eyes were still full of doubt as he looked back at me, and I couldn’t blame him. After what he’d gone through…

I heaved a great sigh.

“Okay. Let’s try this… I’ll go get myself a chair, and then we can talk this whole mess through. Sound like a plan?” I suggested, assuming that if I were to sit next to him on the bed, that would not go over so well right now.

Gabriel agreed with a nod, and I left for the kitchen, returning soon enough and bringing a chair from the dining table and a bottle of water with me. I knew to expect a lot of talking, and therefore wanted to be prepared for a dry throat.

“Would you like some?” I asked, offering him the bottle first, but he shook his head. “Okay then. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Pain.”

I cringed, reminded of what I’d seen in both, my dreams and the Scryings. Of course that would be his most prominent memory.

“Right. I’m sorry. How are you right now? Anything hurting?”

“No.” he replied curtly.

“All right. Let me try again. What’s the last thing you remember _before_ the pain?”

“Castiel. And a gas station. Metatron.”

I nodded.

“Cas told me about that.”

He actually had. That incident had not been part of the angelic instant-memory-transfer, since he’d already described it to me during our… road trip… quest?

“Let’s start there, then. Around that time, or shortly after, was when I started to… No, let me start over. I’ve always been rather… sensitive. Not emotionally or physically, mind you, but more in a cognitive way. Some things other psychics have to train hard for, sometimes over years, just came naturally to me. Others not so much. Anyway… some time after you must have been at that gas station with Cas, or conjured it up under Metatron’s influence – I guess his nose is all healed up by now – I had the first dream.

There wasn’t much detail to them back then. Only darkness, and the sound of someone breathing in the cold, stuffy air.

With time, I had those dreams more often. And every one of them had just the tiniest sliver more detail than the one before it. I never saw anything, though. There just wasn’t enough light.

The dreams started to affect my sleep, and my whole life, so I used the tools of my trade to try and get a closer look at where they came from. On my own terms. That’s when I first saw you. You were unconscious at the time.

That night, in another one of the dreams, you prayed.”

His eyes, formerly stoic yet attentive, widened when I said this. I could not help but blush at his reaction.

“From your prayer, I got Cas’ name. I knew I’d heard it before, and once I recalled where, I involved the Winchesters to track him down. He told me who, and what, you were, and helped me find you. Helped me get you out of that place.”

Gabriel was still watching me carefully, but as far as I could tell, he believed me.

“Did you… dream any more after that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes. Plenty. After I met with Cas and we decided to find you, I did one more Scrying, and then it was pretty much days on the road. There was not really anything else I could do in the car, so I dozed off a lot. Why do you ask?”

He looked away for a moment.

“Just curious.”

Fair enough.

“What else do you want to know?”

“Why? Why, when you found out about me, did you come after me?”

“That’s a very good question.” I nodded. “After your prayer… When I had confirmation that I was not just slowly losing my mind, and once I had figured the Castiel-thing out and he was sitting in front of me, willing to help, I couldn’t just let it go. He told me you had previously been assumed to be either dead or in hiding, but…

And seeing how I appeared to be pretty much the only one who had any sort of… connection to you… I figured it was up to me. My responsibility.”

I purposely left out the part where I wanted it to be my responsibility, because I had already felt drawn to him, way beyond the desire to end his suffering.

“I see.”

We were silent for a while, and I tried not to stare at him in the midst of my joy over the fact that he was finally awake, and well. Though… I could not help but also be just a little sad that he seemed not to have registered what I had said to him not much longer than an hour ago.

I wanted to ask if he had heard me, or if he felt any sense of familiarity around me, but I bit my tongue to keep quiet.

 

_As he sat there on what was presumably her bed, he still couldn’t believe that it was over. That, after-_

_“How long has it been? How long since you had the first dream?”_

_“Two years… and a couple months…” she said quietly._

_After two years, he was finally out of that place, was finally safe from the hands of that demon._

_He looked at the woman in front of him, F/N, and saw sadness in her eyes. Those eyes…_

_“You seem upset.” he pointed out._

_“What? No. No, not upset at all.” she claimed. “Just thoughtful. Don’t concern yourself.”_

_Although her smile seemed forced, he figured it would be best not to dwell on it, and asked another question instead._

_“What happens now?”_

_“Whatever you want.” she said. “You could… stay. I’d be happy to have you here. If you prefer to leave, you can do that as well. There’s wardings around the house to keep us both safe, but if you want to go, I’ll remove them in a flash.”_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Intermission~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It had been over a week since Gabriel had left, but as hard as I tried to ease back into my life before that first Scrying, I just couldn’t seem to let go. To let him go.

He had asked me a few more questions about his rescue. What had happened to the demon, and to Metatron. And after his need for answers seemed to be satisfied, he’d just… left. True to my word, I had removed the wardings without hesitation, as much as it pained me.

My nights were nearly dreamless, if not uninterrupted. What dreams I had where the usual kind. The kind one has when one’s mind is trying to process the past day. I still woke up, though. Only, instead of fear and pain, my heart was now heavy with a profound sadness whenever I did.

I missed having Gabriel by my side as I slept, missed knowing he was safe.

Of course, I constantly reminded myself that he knew how to take care of himself. What had happened to him had about a zero percent chance of repeat.

I supposed my main problem was that I had hoped, against all odds, that he would find I seemed… familiar. That he would want to stay. But that was a silly hope. What had been between us had been a one-way-bond. A psychic version of a freak coincidence.

 

“Good bye, Jennifer!” I said, waving after her until she reached her car.

Then I sighed and closed the door, afterwards making my way to the in-wall safe I used to store the money I received for services rendered.

Jennifer had been one of my most loyal customers before I cut myself off from everyone for months. Naturally, she had then been the first one I called to let her know I was back in business.

After locking the cash for today’s session away, I turned to the table and gathered up my spread-out Tarot deck. Although the temptation was sometimes great, I resisted the urge to lay the cards for myself. Nothing good came out of doing that when one was as influenced by their emotions as I was at the moment.

With another sigh, I put the cards back into their place and went to do some laundry.

 

_He’d had to go. Had to leave the presence of… her. He couldn’t bear the way she looked at him. As if he was the most important thing in her universe. As if he was worth all of her concern. As if he’d been worth the effort she’d made to save him._

_Worse, He knew if he had stayed even a moment longer, he would have told her everything. What he’d done, who he’d been. How there had been a time in his existence, not too long ago by an angel’s standards, during which he had killed people on a regular basis. For fun. How much of a coward he had been. And even after telling her all this, he would have begged her permission to stay._

_Then again, he could not bear to stay away from her either, so he remained nearby. To watch over her._

_At first, he’d tried to blend in. Act like a human being. But there’s only so much blending in you can do while flinching away in fear every time someone goes to shake your hand._

_That fear, that terror, was written deep into his being now, and he wondered if he would ever manage to overcome it._

_He did not want to be alone. In fact, being alone was one of the last things he wanted. He had tuned into his family’s frequencies, so he knew Heaven was even more of a mess right now than it had been two years ago. He thought that maybe he should have stepped up, taken over, been a leader, like Michael had done when their father had left. Considering the state he was in, however, psychologically, he also knew he was not ready for that. And he doubted his sibling would follow him. If they would even believe he was alive._

_No, for the time being, it had to suffice if he checked in every now and then. And to make sure_ she _was safe. Just like she had done for him. It was as close to her as he would allow himself to be._

_He slept when she did. Although he was well enough to do without sleep, he still sought the relief of it. The lack of conscious thought it went hand in hand with._

_Angels did not dream, se he had no need to worry about nightmares. Only, every night he rested, every morning when he woke up, it became clearer to him that sleep did not offer the same sort of… peace. The kind his latest, longest bout of unconsciousness had given him._

_Something was missing._

 

The routine of a ‘normal’ daily life I’d meant to establish after Gabriel’s departure had set in rather quickly, but my problem was that it didn’t seem right. What I did every day was no different from what I had done before, yet it always felt… off, somehow. Like maybe I was different.

I was well aware that I could not just go back to being a hermit, that I needed some human interaction every now and then, and that my work provided me with exactly that.

But I also needed to know Gabriel was still well.

Somewhere deep down, I was certain that if anything unwelcome had happened to him, I would know, yet I still craved more certainty. Some sort of reassurance.

After spending days trying to talk myself out of what I considered an invasion of his privacy now that his life was no longer in danger, I gave in. I made myself a nice, relaxing cup of tea and then retrieved a familiar box, made of brass.

 

While I shook off the trance, a relieved shiver ran through me and I smiled softly.

This time, I had made a conscious effort to keep the Scrying short. And it had been enough. I knew – had seen – he was well. Now, or so I told myself, I could move on. Could start to get over the love affair that never was.

After I’d emptied, dried, and put away the quartz, I picked up my teacup and made my way to the kitchen to wash it. Of course, the saucer slipped from my left hand and bot it and the cup smashed to bits as I tried to catch them with my right. A rather large piece of porcelain sliced into my palm while the rest clattered into the sink and I hissed a colorful litany of curses as blood began to flow in copious amounts.

I was desperately looking for something to stop the bleeding, but ended up just grabbing a handful of paper towels when the doorbell rang and I hurried to get it.

Opening the door, I dropped the blood-soaked ball of paper towels in surprise when I saw who it was.

His hair was all messy and a deep frown creased his brow as he looked at me.

“Gabriel?” I whispered.

“F/N. I have a question.”


	6. Pear of Anguish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever might it be Gabriel wants to ask you?

It took me a few moments before my brain caught up with what Gabriel had said.

“A question?” I blinked. “Yeah, sure. Come on in.”

I stepped aside, carelessly kicking the scrunched-up paper towels into a corner as I went. He caught the movement, his eyes then wandering to the small puddle of blood that had formed next to my feet, and then up to my hand.

“You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing” I said, waving him inside.

He stepped in and I closed the door, but the discussion was not yet over.

“F/N, you’re bleeding. Let me… let me heal you.”

I shook my head, resisting.

“It’s really just a scratch. Don’t trouble yourself.”

“It is no trouble. I owe you that much.”

“Gabriel.” I sighed. “You owe me nothing.”

“Still, let me heal you. Please?”

I could not resist his pleading look, and held my cut hand out in front of me. With a small nod, he placed one of his own over it, without touching me. There was a shimmer of light, a tingle on my skin, and when he pulled his hand away again, mine was as good as new.

“Thank you.” I breathed, my left thumb smoothing over where the cut on my right palm had been just moments ago.

“What happened?” he asked as I led the way into the living room, where he sat on the sofa while I took a seat in the armchair next to it, sitting sideways with one leg pulled up under me so I would face him.

“Nothing important. I broke a teacup.”

“Oh.” he said, and we fell silent.

It quickly began to feel awkward, and I figured I’d remind him of his proclaimed purpose in coming here.

“You said you had a question?”

“Yes. Well… pending your answer, it might be more than one.”

Now he’d really roused my curiosity.

“Okay, spit it out.”

“Have you… What did you wear when you performed the first Scrying Spell?”

“What did I – why – I don’t even remember…” I stuttered in surprise, but then I recalled, and told him what he wanted to know.

I would probably have told him anything he cared to ask about, no matter how odd. His eyes grew wide at my reply.

“And during the second?”

I told him that as well.

“But Gabriel, what’s this-“

Please, F/N, just one more question.”

I swallowed my own enquiries back when I heard the urgency in his voice, and nodded.

“Have you used the spell today?”

Feeling the heat rise to my face, I thought about lying for a brief moment, but I couldn’t. Not to him. Instead, I nodded again, looking down at the leather of my chair’s armrest.

“It was real.” I heard him breathe in what sounded like relief.

When I dared to look up, there was a smile on his lips.

“You’re not mad.”

“Why would I be?” he asked, confused.

“I had no right to spy on you.”

“I think we can safely say you were not just… Even if you were, I ought to overlook it. And actually, I am grateful for it.”

“How so?”

Now, it would seem, it was my turn to be confused.

“It made me realize something. My memory of the last two years is… limited. You know why. And I thought… when I started seeing things, I thought my mind was just too fractured. That it was just a sign I wasn’t going to make it. It was something different, though, so I started looking for those figures whenever I could.”

“Figures?”

“It was you. I… I never saw your face. Not even today. Just a misty shape. But I could tell colors.”

“That’s why you asked what I was wearing?” I attempted to clarify, and he nodded.

“When it happened again today, I just… I had to now. Some kind of confirmation that I’m not as broken as I feared.”

“Gabriel…” I sighed.

I wanted to offer him words of comfort, but I found none. Instead…

“I spoke to you, you know? When you were here. Unconscious. I spoke to you, because I had no one else. And I guess at the time, it also felt like I needed no one else. You probably… I’m guessing you didn’t even hear me.”

“I heard you. Always.”

My eyes snapped up now, my gaze meeting his.

“Always?”

He nodded again.

“Why did you not say anything?”

“Because it does not matter what I think about it. What I want. You know next to nothing about me. You can hardly make a fair, sensible judgment about my character. If you knew who I truly am, what I’ve done-“

“I know those things.” I interrupted him.

I was not going to listen to him if all he uttered was reasons why he, in his own opinion, was not worthy of affection.

“I may not know absolutely everything about you, but… whatever Castiel knew, I know. You think I can’t love you because I don’t know anything about who you used to be? Or that I wouldn’t if I did? Well, I hate to break it to you, but I do know about your past. I do know about it, and I love you.”

My confession left Gabriel shocked, just staring at me, without a word.

“Could you please say something?”

“For instance?” he breathed, swallowing thickly.

“I don’t know.” I laughed.

He licked his lips before speaking.

“I… I stayed close after I left. I couldn’t bear not being near you.” he admitted.

“So _you’ve_ been spying on _me_ then?” I joked, but quickly turned serious again. “You said it… didn’t matter. What you thought. Or wanted. Gabriel, what _do_ you want?”

 

_Nobody had asked him that in a long time, and for a little while, he did not know what to say._

_This woman he barely knew and yet felt so strongly for himself had just told him, and for the second time, that she loved him, no matter his past. After years of solitude and pain, could he allow himself to have the one thing he wanted most?_

_“Would you mind if I stayed for a while?” he asked in the absence of a more direct reply._

_Her smile was nearly blinding._

_“No.” she said. “I would not.”_

 

Somehow, it just felt right to have Gabriel back in the house. Over the course of the afternoon, we talked a lot about my life. It seemed only fair that I should tell him whatever he saw fit to ask about me, considering how I knew so much about him.

I’d offered for him to just read my mind, but he declined and stated he liked hearing my voice. That it was soothing to him, somehow. I’d blushed at that.

Once night had fallen, and the frequency of my yawns grew at an alarming rate, I figured I should head to bed.

“I’d better go catch some sleep. I… The TV remote I on the sideboard, if you want to watch anything. Or I’ve got some great books in the hallway bookcase. Kitchen is stocked too, if you fancy anything. Lots of sweets.” I announced.

Gabriel looked off to the side awkwardly.

“What’s wrong, Gabriel?”

Actually, I… I would not mind sleeping, either.” He said in a low voice.

“Oh. I… When I was trying to find you with Cas, he never slept. I just assumed…”

“We don’t need to sleep. Angels. But we can, if we wish. Since I left here, I’ve been trying to do so, in hopes of finding some rest from my thoughts, but it’s just… It didn’t feel the same as when I was here… with you.”

Oh. That was unexpected. My mind had already been busy trying to decide which area of the floor, and in which room, would be more comfortable then the sofa. But if he didn’t want to be alone…

“You’d like to share my bedroom?” I asked for clarification.

He nodded minutely, and I got up from my seat, jerking my head in the direction we needed to go in, and smiled.

“Come on, then.”

 

Lying in my bed next to Gabriel was different now. It felt different. Not only because he was well now, but also… No, I couldn’t put my finger on int.

When I woke up, for just a moment, my heart was aching with sadness, until I remembered Gabriel was right there next to me. Then, I suddenly felt… at home.

It was weird. I’d considered this house my home since the day I moved in. I had never had anyone before that. My family was always distant, partly because of my profession. The closest friend I had ever had was Pamela, and since her death, I’d been pretty much by myself when it wasn’t work-related. Basically, I’d always been alone in the house, and only now did I realize how lonely that had actually made me.

But with Gabriel by my side, it felt… complete.

I sighed deeply, content, and slowly opened my eyes.

The misty light of an early morning, the horizon barely yet lit up, filtered through the curtains, casting dim shadows throughout the room. I found that Gabriel lay facing me, still asleep, his lashes resting against his skin, one arm on top of the duvet, and reached for his hand. Unthinking. Hypnotized.

As soon as my fingers made but the barest of contact, he jolted awake and backwards, breathing rapidly, nearly falling off the edge of the bed, eyes wide.

I retracted my hand to hold it up in a hopefully calming gesture and Gabriel relaxed, realizing it was just me.

“I… I’m sorry. I…”

“No, Gabriel. No. _I_ ought to apologize. I should not have done that. You’ve been through one hell of a trauma. I understand. Are you okay?”

He nodded and scooted back to where he had previously been.

Even after that small incident, and although I should have known better, I still felt the urgent need to touch him. But at least I knew to be more sensible about it now.

His hand was back within reach now, palm turned up towards the ceiling, fingers curled slightly.

“Do you think its okay if I…”

I moved my fingers slightly to indicate what I meant, and he hummed his acquiescence. His eyes followed my hand as I extended it towards his, the room completely silent around us. At the first soft touch of skin against skin, he drew a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a second while I let my fingers slide between his, curling around his hand with just a little bit of reassuring pressure.

“Is this all right?” I whispered.

He returned the gently squeeze of my hand, his “Yes.” nearly inaudible.

The world outside grew brighter by the minute, but the enclosed space around us remained dusky, the heavy curtains shutting most of the beginning day’s light out. Still, even in the limited light, I could clearly see him, look at him, for the first time.

Before, there had always been something or another that stood in the way of me appreciating just looking at him. He was being tortured, I was worried he wouldn’t make it, he was scared, I was scared, we were both confused, had no idea what was going on, one or both of us were embarrassed… There had been too many things.

But now, right here, in this moment, the confusion and uncertainty we would still have to deal with sooner or later just didn’t seem to matter that much. This moment was just between us and the early light of day.

What little light the curtains would admit reflected on his hair, different shades of rich, dark honey showing like natural highlights. His eyes. Their color was… different. It faintly reminded me of whiskey. But not just one kind. No. There were so many shades, so many different stages of maturity. And beyond all of that, so much pain.

 

_She was just there. Right in front of him. Looking at him. No judgment in her eyes, her hand in his a warm source of comfort, her thumb gliding over the back of his hand without any conscious effort._

_Convinced he did not deserve this, he was still determined to accept her love, as long as she was willing to give it to him. If she gave freely what he craved, against all odds, he was not going to argue the other side._

_“I know what you’re thinking.” her low voice suddenly made itself heard. “I can feel it.”_

_“How?”_

_She drummed her slender fingers softly against his hand instead of an answer._

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Well…” she sighed. “…while you were gone, I experimented a little with my… abilities. I wanted to know what triggered the mind-reading. I still don’t have an answer to that. Sometimes, it just happens. But I found out that touching someone makes it easier.”_

_Slowly, she uncurled her fingers from his and drew her hand upwards, her touch never quite leaving his skin, though. With just her fingertips, she made small circles on the inside of his wrist._

_“I don’t want- Please don’t think that’s the reason I reached for your hand, Gabriel. It was not my intention to read your thoughts. As I said, sometimes it just happens.”_

_“Mhm.” he murmured._

_“Just- since I_ did _catch your thoughts, I want you to know that you_ do _deserve this. If it’s something you want, you can have it. All of it.”_

_“Can I ask you something?” he whispered, hoping she did not yet grow tired of his questions._

_“Of course.” She replied, the corners of her mouth turning upwards in a soft smile._

_“Why did you reach for my hand, if that was not the reason?”_

_Her smile widened and her hand inched further up his arm._

_“I thought that now would be as good a time as any to start showing you that not every touch is meant to do you harm. Your head knows that, I suppose. But your body… and your subconscious… they will need to learn it again. To learn that this-“ her hand stopped on his biceps, letting him feel her warmth, his eyes still fixed on hers as she spoke. “-is nothing you have to fear._

_I know it’s going to be a long, stony path, but I’m willing to walk it with you, as long as it may take. If that’s what you want, of course.”_

_“I do want that.” he said quietly._

_She huffed happily, still smiling, and her hand shifted again. Leaving a tingling trail on his bare skin, still always touching, she slowly moved it from his upper arm to his shoulder, stopping briefly on his neck, before her fingers trailed downwards and came to rest on his chest, just over his heart._

 

Gabriel’s heartbeat was sure and steady under my palm, and I was just happy that he seemed to want to stay this time. His skin was warm, and that warmth spread through me as well, with my hand resting where it did, shielding me from the morning air’s chill.

Not wanting to break that physical connection just yet, I left my hand there, even as Gabriel lifted his, the one I’d just held, and ever so gently brushed a wisp of hair from my temple. A spark of static electricity made me wince.

“Sorry.” Gabriel whispered, something new in his voice.

“Don’t be.” I replied as I now cupped his cheek, my thumb tracing his softly curved lips. “Shock me all you want, if it makes you smile.”

“I didn’t realize I was smiling.”

“But _I_ did. I hope I’ll see it more often in the future.”

“If I get to stay with the woman I’m in love with, how could I not smile every now and then?”

He was in love with me. I’d hoped, I’d guessed, but now I _knew_.

“There.” he said, sounding very pleased with himself, his own smile growing at the sight of mine. “I hope I’ll see that more often in the future as well.”

I was so busy being happy that he was in love with me as well, I did not reply. I did not notice that he came ever closer, either. Until his lips brushed over mine, that is.

Sliding my hand from his cheek to his neck again, I kept him where he was for just a moment longer before we parted and I released the breath I’d been holding.

I hummed happily.

“That was nice.”

The welcome sound of a small, huffed laugh met my ears before, in yet another unexpected, but happily accepted move, Gabriel reached an arm around my waist and pulled me close, cradling me against his bare chest and resting his chin on the top of my head.

“Thank you.” he whispered in a strained voice.

I clutched the arm I wasn’t lying on around him in a half-hug.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

 

We stayed like that for some time, until I felt Gabriel press a kiss to my hair. Pulling away from his way too comfortable chest, I looked up at him, and found myself amazed. For the moment, he looked content.

“I would like to kiss you again.” he said.

“What’s stopping you?”

Although still careful, almost delicate, this kiss was more confident as well. On both of our sides. I was no longer surprised he would seek such an intimacy in the first place, and thus welcomed it freely.

Pressing closer to him, I parted my lips and he accepted the unspoken invitation, our tongues mingling along with our breath, his hand firmly planted against the small of my back.

Only my need for air was, after a while, strong enough to force me into ending the kiss. Instead of breaking away from me, he merely moved a little, his lips first gliding along my jaw line, then down my neck.

“Gabriel…” I brought out, a barely articulated sigh.

“Mhm?” he hummed against my skin.

“Never mind.”

I wouldn’t even try to pretend I didn’t like where this seemed to be headed.

Was it unexpected? Definitely.

Was it too soon? Maybe. I didn’t know.

Was it selfish of me, considering the amount of psychological trauma Gabriel had been through, and still needed to deal with? Possibly.

Then again, he was just as much of a consenting adult – or archangel, as the case me be – as I was…

While I was busy talking myself out of overanalyzing something we obviously both wanted, our position had changed. I was on my back now, Gabriel’s body a welcome weight above me, and his lips on mine again.

While I was in my usual nightwear – PJ shorts and a tank top – Gabriel wore barely anything. He’d just stripped down to his boxers – red silk – when we went to bed last night. Therefore, I had full freedom to let my hands wander, mapping him out at a leisurely pace.

It wasn’t like I had never touched him before, but again, it was different now.

While he was recovering, every touch had been about his health. Making sure he was still stable. Checking if his wounds were healing. Now, the only thing on my mind was that I finally got to feel him. Just for the sheer pleasure of it.

He was holding his balance above me with one arm, the elbow planted firmly on the mattress next to my head, while the according hand was tangled into my hair. His right, in the meantime, glid down across my ribs and over my waist, coming to a halt on my hip, the heat he radiated easily felt through the thin cotton of my shorts as his fingers dug into my flesh. Not possessively, more to remind himself that I was real, and his.

My own hands, during their exploration, had found a cluster of scars on his stomach, just above his navel, slightly to the left. Just when my fingertips brushed over them, he froze, breaking away from my lips, forehead leaned against mine, eyes screwed shut.

“Gabriel?” I whispered through kiss-swollen lips, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek again. “What is it?”

“The scars…” he panted.

“What about them?”

“I just…” his voice broke, and he clenched his jaw.

“Gabriel…” I sighed. “They will fade. They are fading already. Soon enough, they’ll be gone.”

“I know…”

“But you also know you’ll never forget why you had them in the first place? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t try to forget it. Remember it, and know that it is over now. You’re here, with me, and you’ll grow stronger for what you’ve endured.” I told him before pecking his lips.

“Like you’ve grown stronger.”

It was a statement, not a question, and I took it as such.

“If that’s how you want to look at it.”

“I love you.”

Now, I froze, only for a moment, before I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a suddenly urgent kiss, trying to keep myself from weeping in joy.

I wasn’t as if the pause had never been, but we did resume our exploration of one another. His hand, still on my hip, wandered upwards, under my top, pushing the fabric until we had to part in order to dispose of the offending garment.

The top gone, I yearned to go right back to kissing him, but he held me down, not forceful, just determined, one hand pressing down in the center of my chest, below my neck, his knees left and right of my hips as he now straddled me.

“Gabriel?”

“Just let me look at you for a moment?”

How could I deny him such a simple request?

 

_He wasn’t leering. There was nothing filthy or unclean in the way he looked at her. Rather, now that he’d admitted his feelings to her and she still welcomed him with open arms, he took in the sight of her face, and her body, as if for the first time. It felt different. Looking at her. It felt – like he belonged. That was something he had not felt in millennia, and he closed his eyes for a moment to savor the feeling, only opening them when he felt her brush a stray hair back behind his ear._

_“You found something?” she asked, a soft smile curving her lips._

_“Yes.” He breathed, not elaborating before he bent to seal his lips to hers._

_Cupping one of her breasts with each hand, wanting to give her all the pleasure imaginable, he was delighted when she arched into his very touch, seeking more, and broke their lips apart, a sweet moan spilling from hers._

 

It was fascinating – Gabriel barely touched me at all, and I nearly came undone already. Previously, I had often had problems letting go, but with him, it just felt so natural, and I could only hope he experienced something similar with me.

His name poured from my lips, again and again, while his found purchase on one of my nipples, after making their way there and leaving behind burning path of desire, a trail of still needy skin.

My hands glid over his body again, but this time he did not flinch away when I touched one of his scars. The one where Cas had cut the spell from him was, somehow, the most prominent one remaining, and I made sure to keep my touch gentle as my fingers traced the red welt.

The way he treated my chest was intoxicating – suckling, grazing, gently nibbling one nipple while kneading the other breast before switching sides.

I’d long since lost count of how many times we had breathed each other’s names.

My hands now on the small of his back, I trailed the waistband of his boxers, before sliding my fingers under the fabric, the delectable, firm globes of his rear perfect leverage to push him closer to my core.

He chuckled at my greedy demand, actually chuckled, the sound warming my heart as he came back up to kiss me again, whispering another “I love you” before our mouths met.

In the midst of that kiss, wanting and needy, my hands began, almost without my brain instructing them thus, to push his boxers lower until my arms could reach no further. I was about to break the kiss and complain thereof, but the words were taken from me by the sheer surprise of feeling not only his, but also my remaining clothing disappear. A jolt of shock ran through me, causing Gabriel to lose his balance above me and collapse, barely able to direct his fall so he landed next to, instead of on top of me. I just had to giggle at his expression.

“Sorry. Caught me by surprise.” I whispered, before I buried my hands in his luscious hair to pull him back to me and resume our kiss.

Hooking a leg around his middle, I pulled his lower half closer again as well, and was rewarded with the feeling of his hot length against me as his hand came to rest on my hip.

From there, it inched its way to the apex of my thighs, caressing every bit of skin he came across. My breath hitched when his fingers glid through my folds – oh so easily – and when he began to circle my clit with his thumb, I had to hide my face against his neck to contain the lewd sounds attempting to pour from my throat. I was all but done for when he sank a finger into me.

Almost overwhelmed already, I still rolled my hips, chasing every movement of his hand, asking, begging for more, until I was rewarded when he added a second finger, and soon a third, preparing me, stretching me.

In fact, I was so close to the peak, I could almost taste it, but before I could fall over the edge, I left my hiding place and met his lips with my own, closing my fingers around his wrist at the same time to halt his movements. He looked slightly puzzled when the kiss broke.

My voice was barely louder than a sigh when I spoke.

“Not like this.” I told him, bringing his arm to lie across my waist before I reached between our bodies again. “Not this time.”

He gasped as my fingers surrounded him, my thumb wiping away the drop of moisture from his tip. A low groan followed when I pumped him lazily, and he was nothing but eager to accommodate me when I began to guide him to where I wanted him to be.

He slid into me as if he belonged there. Which, in a way, he did. A shudder ran through us both when he bottomed out, and we stayed like that for a few breaths.

From there on, it was all lazy strokes. Slow, languid.

We had all the time in the world, and we were making good use of it.

Soft touches. Caressing.

Long, hungry kisses, somewhere between devouring and devotion.

Somehow, this position was so much more intimate than anything else would have been.

On our sides, both able to touch, feel every shiver in the other’s body. The hum of anticipation. The delicious, slowly mounting tension of an impending climax.

My hands grasping at his shoulders.

Our mouths slanted together as firmly as our hips, only breaking apart occasionally For a wanton moan, be it mine or his. For a breath, quickly sucked in, not wanting to waste a second more than was absolutely necessary. For a gasp, when the pleasure nearly became too much. For the whisper of a name, gentle, loving, committed.

His fingers pressing into the flesh of my hip, keeping me as close as possible, while still allowing me to meet his every move. Letting me roll my hips, just a little, into each thrust, Canting his own just a bit more, making sure he hit that spot he had formerly only brushed dead on.

I moved a hand to curl into his hair and had to break the seal of our lips, pressing my forehead tightly to his, no longer making any effort whatsoever to contain the keening sounds as I knew I neared the edge.

He was watching me, so closely, his bottom lip tucked firmly between his teeth, determined to hold himself back until I had reached fulfillment.

An unseen force, accompanied by the same tingle I’d felt when he healed my hand, applying exactly the right amount of pressure to my clit, was my undoing.

My head thrown back, lips parting in a soundless cry, limbs trembling, seemingly endless waves of pure, sensational bliss rolled through me, all the more so when Gabriel stilled after a few more languid strokes, pulsing deep within me, my name a new kind of prayer on his lips.

 

It took a long time until the last shockwaves of our orgasms had ebbed away, and at least _my_ body remained barely even capable of the exhausted shiver caused by his hand moving up my side.

Still connected, reluctant to let go, we met in a new kiss, somehow sated as well as hungry.

Pressing my chest closer against his than ever, he wrapped me in his arms, _his_ face now hidden against the side of _my_ neck, lips pressing to my damp skin.

The shift of our bodies had me wince, too sensitive with him still in me, and he knew, for he gently eased his hips back until he was gone from my core, my low whimper and following sigh inaudible as we remained wrapped up in each other.

The world on the other side of the curtains was brightly lit by now, but the bedroom remained cast in dim shadows. We had nowhere we needed to go, so we wordlessly agreed we might as well stay in bed.

 

Just a little longer.

**Author's Note:**

> [lamthetwickster's original post can be found here.](http://lamthetwickster.tumblr.com/post/141334777261/gabriel-lies-locked-away-in-his-prison-not-the)
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> Please do not hesitate, leave a comment!


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